


They say will be

by inplayruns



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:13:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inplayruns/pseuds/inplayruns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jessica Moore must die. It has been written; Castiel knows this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They say will be

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the events of the Pilot because Cas is totes mcgotes a creepster for all eternity.

Jessica Moore must die. It has been written; Castiel knows this.

And yet, even as Castiel passes much time of late observing the Righteous Man, he’s watched others who will touch Dean’s life, too. Sam, of course, though the lectures the younger Winchester brother sits through these days are poorly reasoned and fairly often inaccurate. As he studies the notes over his desk, Castiel wants to swoop to Earth and tear them up, because it is, in the grand scheme of things, so pointless. There is no need, however, because Sam will never take those tests. Spending time watching Sam proves especially unpleasant considering the way his face constantly warps and shakes, black and sticky in Castiel’s view, Azazel’s taint manifesting itself.

These days, Castiel watches Jessica more often. She is not tortured by nightmares and visions, and her face is pleasant to observe. He watches her attend biology classes, which are woefully incomplete but at least not actually false. He’s seen her go to Wal-Mart to purchase plastic forks in bulk and cradle the telephone between her cheek and shoulder while clipping her fingernails – human bodies were so odd, their movements awkward at the same time they were some of the most beautiful things Castiel had ever seen – and averted his gaze when she swung one bare leg over Sam’s naked lap, her smile strangely wicked. Castiel found it remarkably like a demon’s, which should have chilled him, but there was no malice behind Jessica’s look.

Just yesterday, the thoughts she had baffled Castiel. Her thoughts were shot through with worry for Sam, a constant hum through her, and yet she still managed to drive her car – a gift from her father when she got into Stanford, and it’s used with a dent in the hood but she still loves it – to the supermarket, intent on buying chocolate chip cookie mix for Sam. Even distracted, she made plans with several of her friends on how to divide the cooking and baking for Thanksgiving. She encountered Brady while walking to her friend’s apartment, and laughed with him as he thought about splitting her gut open. Honestly, Castiel did not know how the many emotions churning through them did not tear simple human minds apart to begin with.

Castiel had been rather irritated with Jessica when she’d half-glared at the Righteous Man’s words to her. So many others would never have the privilege of talking to him; if she could live, perhaps they would have been friendly. But he realizes, later, that Dean is the Righteous Man, but not a perfect one, and often rather impolite, especially to authority figures and females considered attractive by human standards. This epiphany should terrify him, but the Righteous Man is a human, not an angel. Unlike Castiel, perfection is not expected of him, no matter how important.

Many angels hold that against Dean, Castiel knows. Zachariah had sat with him while he observed the man stroking his fingers up the inner thighs of a pretty, somewhat heavyset brunette, followed by the wet line of his tongue. She shivered so visibly, breath hitching in her throat. 

“Disgusting,” Zachariah sneered, as Dean touched his mouth where her legs met. “That such a low thing…” Zachariah has a habit of trailing off around Castiel, Uriel, and the others in their garrison. He has knowledge they’re not meant to be privy to. 

Castiel certainly doesn’t think of Dean as a low thing. He is the Righteous Man. He may be boisterous and foghorn-loud and spend too much time at bars or caring for his car, he may perform sexual acts Castiel does not understand, and he may stuff his mouth with unhealthy sustenance, but he has been chosen. 

And yet Jessica Moore is much the same. She drives her car and loves it, stroking her hand absently along the metallic flank. Castiel frowns at the food she eats; she steals five cookies off the platter intended for Sam. He does not understand the sexual acts she participates in, because surely there are more comfortable places to settle herself on Sam than an armchair, but her skin still flushes warm and red, her kisses just as passionate. And Sam, Sam, Sam is so important to both of them, he loves them both fiercely if so differently. 

Yet Dean is the Righteous Man, and Jessica must die. She will come to Heaven, a soul at peace, but her destiny does not shape the world like Dean’s. Castiel observes both the joyous gleam in Jessica’s eyes at a perfectly-baked batch of cookies intended for Sam, and the Righteous Man covered in foul-smelling mud and looking small next to his brother, and he does not know whose destiny overwhelms him more. 

The thought is dangerously close to blasphemy. _Anna_ would have thought what Castiel thinks now, so he banishes it. His Father will give peace to Jessica Moore; his Father would not have put the destiny of His Kingdom on Dean Winchester’s shoulders if he could not handle it.

Time cannot be altered or changed. Neither can destiny. And yet, as the Righteous Man blares his music and drives down the California roads, furious and disappointed and jealous all at once, already so broken, Castiel silently urges him to drive faster. He aches to see Sam arrive at his small apartment before the demon Brady, to let his frightening dreams remain exactly that and nothing more. Dean’s already so hurt; let him leave Sam in his happy Stanford life, find his father quickly and continue hunting lower beasts, saving the children of pretty young women who will offer him shy smiles in return. Yet even as Castiel thinks it, he sees Sam stabbed in the back by a fleeing figure in military garb, and Dean, gasping and desperate and hating himself for so many reasons as he does it, pressing his lips to a crossroad demon’s.

Castiel wishes to see Jessica Moore live, although it cannot be. The – feeling – settles inside his Grace, and he can only stare as Dean’s Impala continues on the road, trickle-slow to Castiel. Destiny cannot be changed, and Jessica, who had done nothing of import other than love Sam Winchester, must die tonight.


End file.
